The Lets Read Podcast - 52: Episode 047 | Stalker & Tinder Stories | 21 True Scary Horror Stories

Episode Date: October 21, 2019

Welcome to the forty seventh episode of The Lets Read Podcast! This podcast includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Stalkers, Tinder Dates and Cryptid Encounters.  HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON- ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ♫ Background Music: Iron Cthulhu Apocalypse https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DFvrqVSJE8E PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead 

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TreadExperts.ca I was about ten years old living in the northeast. One afternoon I was walking home from school when I saw a man up the road ahead of me, walking toward the sidewalk. My mind was sort of wandering in space so I barely took notice of him. He had a slight limp which made him stand out from the background of my daydreaming. I kept walking. His path began to converge with mine. I didn't react. I also didn't see the cloth bag in his hand until he was right next to me, throwing it over my head. I felt the bag cinch around my neck with a strong jerk as he swept me off my feet. Within seconds, he had thrown me into

the back of a van and was driving down the road again as if nothing had happened. My body immediately began to ache from the trauma of being tossed around like a ragdoll and left unsecured on the cold metal floor of a moving vehicle. Stunned by the sudden attack, it was several minutes before I began screaming and crying as the realization set in. I had been kidnapped and I was not going to see my family again. I felt my chest crushing in at the thought. A moment after my fit of crying started I felt the gravity shift under me as the van pulled over onto what sounded like the shoulder of a highway. The man got up from his seat, pulled up the hood on my head and shoved a rag into my mouth. I thought he would never stop driving. It felt like days went by as burning sensations

raced through my joints and bones as they passed against the unpadded frame of the van. When we finally stopped, I could hear voices chattering, muffled by the thin walls of the vehicle. I was held in a normal looking house a couple of hundred miles away from home. After a few weeks, I realized what I had to do to survive. I won't get too far into the details, but for several months I was tortured and abused. Physically, emotionally and beyond. Everything I did was closely monitored. Eating, sleeping, going to the bathroom, everything. It wasn't long before that became my life. My kidnapper was a fixed, permanent character in my story. The man with the limp. He was bald-headed with heavy scarring on

his scalp and face, as if though he had been in a lot of fights. He had one green eye and one blue. Whenever he wore a short-sleeved shirt, a tattoo was visible on his forearm, a stylized font that spelled out the name Annabelle. My middle and last names were inscribed on his skin as well. Every time I saw it, I felt sick to my stomach. By avoiding making him mad or stepping out of line, I eventually gained enough of his trust to be allowed to walk around the house and get food when I was hungry without him watching my every move. The tense air of mutual distrust that dominated the first few months seemed to fade into a twisted feeling of normalcy. One day he showed me his room. There were pictures of me all over the walls.

Many were from my time being held as his captive, but also peppered in were photos taken before I was kidnapped. He had pictures of me walking outside, pictures of me sleeping in my room. It took every fiber of my will to avoid breaking down in front of him as the rush of memories of my former life came crashing down on me. I wanted to go home so badly, but I couldn't let him know that, especially when he was beginning to open up and trust me. Thank God I was smart enough to know that. A few weeks later, I was able to convince him to take me shopping with him. The one condition was that I would have to hold his hand the entire time. While we were out,

he had to go to the bathroom. He had made me promise to stay put while he went in. As soon as he was out of sight, I ran, frantically searching the aisles of the grocery store. I grabbed the first person I could and told her that I had been kidnapped, begging for her to call the police. The police arrived very quickly and were able to arrest him. I told them my address and they eventually had someone take me home. The officers that drove me home told me that the man's name was Brian. I had told them that I had never seen him before the day he took me away. Little did I know, he had been watching me for two years. It took me a while to get past the whole ordeal, but just so you know, I'm fine now.

Just paranoid. Now about the story that I originally wanted to tell you, it's directly related to all of this. About a year or so had passed since I was returned home. I was 12, back in my routine life out in the country where my parents lived. My best friend Beth was staying with us due to some family issues so she and I walked everywhere together. I was usually barefoot, keeping a sharp eye out for snakes or broken glass along the dirt roads. One day my mom let us walk to the nearest gas station to get ice and pop for a cookout we were planning.

Mind you, this station was only about 50 yards away from my house so it was basically within earshot of my backyard. When we got close to the store, Beth grabbed my hand and whispered to me, Walk faster. I figured she was just getting tired of being out in the hot sun, so I picked up the pace. We walked around the store for a few minutes, looking at ice cream and energy drinks, standard behavior for a couple of rebel kids. We got everything we needed for the barbecue, plus a couple of extra push pops for ourselves. As we made our way back home, Beth grabs my hand again, this time shaking with fear, written all over her face.

She's only ten years old, by the way. Just then, I looked up and over my shoulder to see a man walking briskly behind us. My mind went into overdrive, calculating what to do amid flashes of my recent horrible past. I told Beth to get my phone out and text my mom to let her know what was happening. I pulled a knife out of my back pocket and held it out to my side, making sure the man saw it. He slowed his pace once the blade came out. Once he backed off, I told Beth not to bother with the text as we were almost home. When we arrived, the cookout went as normal. We helped prepare the food and ate with

family, eventually forgetting about the brief scare that we had had. We even changed into our swimming clothes and splashed around in the creek afterward. After about an hour of playing around in the water, I felt a sharp tug on my shirt. Beth pulled me close to her, pointing up to the nearby bridge. Sissy, the man is back. I looked up at the bridge and felt my lungs flood with air as I had no choice but to gasp. I recognized the man as the same one who had kidnapped me before. I scooped Beth up and we ran home, hand in hand. She kept asking me who the man was, and not having the heart to tell her the whole truth, I simply said I didn't trust him. I don't for the life of me know why I didn't call the police right then and there.

When we got home, a sense of safety came over me and I immediately felt I could relax. Within the hour, we were in my room watching a movie. The phone rang and I answered it. A familiar voice responded. You're my baby doll. You belong to me. Don't run from me, girl. You can't hide from me. Remember, you were going to be my wife. I hung up the phone. My heart was in my throat. I threw the phone into my laundry basket, screaming at him. Beth asked if I was okay, and I just told her it was an old friend being an idiot. I walked downstairs to make sure the doors and windows were all locked and I eventually went to sleep. Around 3am I was startled awake by the sound of my front door being busted open, followed by several voices yelling police. I heard their heavy footsteps running all throughout my house until they finally made it to my bedroom.

They checked all over the room, in the closets, behind my door, and they ended up pulling the man out from under my bed. It was one of the most traumatic moments of my life, and the feeling of being watched has never completely left me. I've wanted to tell this story for so long long but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Thanks for helping me share this story. I hope this can help someone else avoid going through what happened to me. In the fall of 2016, a friend and I decided to go hiking late in the afternoon in a densely wooded wilderness area in the mountains not too far from Fayetteville, Arkansas. My friend Rick was close to 60 at the time and recovering from a triple bypass he'd undergone around 16 months earlier. We'd been hiking this and other trails for about a year following his operation to strengthen his cardiovascular health. That day, a weekday,

I hiked with a bottle of water, my wallet, and my keys, but nothing else. Nothing to protect myself. The trail we picked is a popular weekend hiking spot that we had taken dozens of times before. We were both comfortable with the hike and had never had a problem on that path, or any other for that matter. While Rick is older and at the time a little more feeble after his health problems, I was in my mid-forties, well over six foot tall and in pretty good shape, so I wasn't really worried about our safety. The trail we were on is a state park adjacent to federal parkland, it's an outdoor enthusiast dream. Most of our trek that day was completely uneventful, we just enjoyed the autumn leaves and chatted

casually as the sun dropped lower in the evening sky. We had seen nobody else that day which was probably to be expected given that we had chose to hike late afternoon on a Wednesday. We'd completed about four miles of the six mile loop and up to that point it was as uneventful as any other. On our way back to the car and about two miles from the parking area we spotted someone. Through an opening in the trees I saw a young woman, probably a college student on the trail ahead of us and moving in our direction. At first glance I paid very little attention. As the distance between us disappeared that changed.

I did not know her so I could have been mistaken but there was something about her posture and expression that seemed off. As she got closer it struck me that she had a semi-panicked look on her face and was moving quite quickly but she was in athletic gear so maybe she was just booking it for some cardio. She occasionally turned her head and stared over her shoulder. I followed her eyes and eventually noted another woman about 50 yards behind her walking up the path through the trees. The second woman was not wearing hiking gear. In fact, her clothing struck me as totally inappropriate. It was a warm afternoon and we were all well inside a wooded state park area miles from any homes, but she was wearing

semi-formal office casual attire and a light jacket. I thought the clothes must have been second-hand because they were tattered, ill-fitting and didn't look washed. She was a fit, athletic-looking woman who couldn't have been more than about 25 or 30 years of age. It was too bizarre. The clothes were wrong for the trail and they were wrong for someone her age. Everything was off about her. Her shoes struck me as being even more peculiar. When she got closer I noticed she was wearing scuffed leather flats, casual shoes with no ankle support. I found it completely odd because you just don't see people on this trail dressed as she was and you never see them wearing shoes like that.

My hiking partner Rick hadn't appeared to notice anything odd as he was completely involved in the conversation and just kept talking. The second woman briefly glanced up and we made eye contact as she neared us. The alarm bells went off in my head. There was something in her eyes that made me feel uncomfortable. I don't know what she was thinking if I'm being honest but I swear she had contempt in her face. Part of me wondered whether I'd offended her by staring so I diverted my eyes and kept walking. I tried to tell myself that maybe she was homeless, was wearing the only thing she had and I was just being rude, but the warning bells were still going off in my head. I'm not a paranoid person so having my sixth sense going nuts left me unsettled.

I have fantastic peripheral vision so I turned my face towards Rick and acted like I was listening to him, but I was watching the creepy woman out of the corner of my eye. The moment we passed she spun her head around to study us and she slowed her pace. My internal alarms grew louder. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her come to a stop and drop her face toward at the ground. Her body half turned on the trail, it was very odd behavior. Rick and I kept walking and around 50 yards further we made it around a bend in the path and looked back at the woman before the trees obscured her from view. She was still standing there. Her face was down, but she was staring a hole through us out of the corner

of her eyes. That was the first time I realized that I couldn't see her hands. One was inside her pocket and the other was hidden from my view on the other side of her body. It creeped me out and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. For a half a mile I didn't see her again and had begun to wonder whether the first woman, the co-ed, had felt danger as well. Clearly she had, I thought, and that's why she was practically running through the woods at dusk. It also struck me that the creepy woman had stopped and studied Rick and me like she was deciding on whom to follow. We weren't moving as fast, we were walking as quickly as Rick could manage, and he was clearly more feeble than the co-ed. Those thoughts amped up my senses and I still felt uneasy so I periodically checked behind us.

At certain points through the woods I could see more than 100 yards. Nothing. I began to worry about the co-ed. My hair stood up for a second time as I felt the strangest sensation of being watched. Again thinking I was paranoid and half mocking myself for being afraid of the creepy woman I turned my head around to assure myself she was not back there. I was wrong. She was there following with her head down and moving briskly about a hundred yards behind us, but with her hands hidden. I turned my head back to the trail in front of us and we kept walking, still trying to convince myself that there was nothing out of the ordinary happening, that I was just being rude because she was dressed like a homeless woman.

About two hundred yards further along the path path I turned my head back to Rick and my heart raced a bit. She's closed half the distance. Each time we would walk around a bend and the woods obscured her location she would emerge much closer to us at the next opening. I told myself that I was just being paranoid but nevertheless tried to get Rick to pick up the pace a bit. By this time he was clearly aware that we were being followed and was pretty uncomfortable as well though, to his credit he did keep talking. With a half mile to go before we reached the parking area I turned my head once again and she was just 10 feet behind us. I hadn't seen or heard her get that close and it freaked me out. I literally

jumped. One of her hands was in her pocket and the other was behind her back. I got the distinct feeling she had a weapon of some kind and she had no fear of me despite the fact that I was considerably taller, albeit several years older. There was no mistaking her demeanor. She meant to do us harm or at the very least she intended to intimidate us. I weaved my car keys between the knuckles of my right hand, handed my water bottle to Rick and made an obvious fist with my left hand. With a half mile left in our hike, I thought to myself, this is nothing, she'll pass us and move on, as clearly she's moving a lot faster than we were. I was accustomed to people overtaking us when I walked with Rick, but she didn't pass,

and never acted like she knew we were there, which was the creepiest part. I kept my head turned toward her as I walked and tried to get her to make eye contact but she didn't look me in the eyes at first. She kept acting like neither Rick nor I were on the path, just feet ahead of her and she'd slowed to follow closely behind. I was completely unnerved and that made me angry. I wanted her to see how angry I was and to convey with a look that messing with me was a mistake. When she finally did make eye contact with me, I glared and clenched my fists. There was an instant where I couldn't read her expression. She was simply blank, but as she studied my face, she appeared simultaneously agitated and a little less confident. I was conveying one thing in the look on my face. Back off. And at this point,

I didn't care if it appeared rude. She apparently thought better of whatever she was doing and slowed her pace so that the distance between us grew to about 20 feet. But she was tense. I know she had a weapon of some kind, and I believe she meant to do us harm, but I also know she recognized that I was ready to fight. I was mentally preparing to charge at her if I saw a gun or a knife as I knew Rick couldn't outrun her. I thought to myself I just have to surprise her. I also realized that I needed to have her in front of us. A few hundred feet further, about a quarter mile from where our car was parked, she was still stalking us and I had had enough. I was in equal measures afraid and furious.

I told Rick that we were going to stop and let her pass, loud enough for her to hear it. Just as I was getting ready to stop on the trail and make her walk in front of us, she veered into a small clearing, plowing through waist-high brush, crossed a ditch and scurried through a line of trees to a road that ran through the woods between the main road and the parking area. I kept my eyes on her the whole time. She had a car. It was parked alongside the little service road partially hidden by shrubs, not in the

parking lot. The last time we made eye contact, just before she climbed in her car, it was clear from the expression on her face that she was very angry. I glared at her, expressing my own anger, but kept walking. When her car started and she drove away, Rick got quiet before asking me, what was she doing? Did she have a gun? I told him I didn't know. I never saw a weapon. We walked back to our car without saying another word. Once the engine was on and the doors were shut, we chatted more about it and decided to call the authorities and report the incident and make sure and have them check on the poor co-ed who we passed first. To this day I have no idea what the creepy woman was planning

to do. Rob us? Harm us? Scare us? I have no idea. I'm just thankful she decided better of it. I have hiked that trail more than 50 times since then but have never seen her again. I'm a 22 year old female that weighs 80 pounds and that's athletic. I'm quite tall and have a defect in my eyes so one's gray and one's green. I promise that'll be relevant later. So this happened when I was 20 and it stopped when I was 21. Many things have happened to me for some reason. I guess I'm just a magnet for weirdness. I met this guy in university when he was finishing and I was just starting. He was assigned my study partner. I'm studying to be a pediatrician. I remember that he was quite nice in the beginning but started to get

jealous whenever I spent time with my boyfriend. This was the first red flag that whenever I went I always kind of saw him walking some meters behind me and then the notes started. There were really sexual notes about me and other things I'm not so sure I should share. After that I didn't know who it was but at the end it was about 255 notes all in one month. The last one actually had names so I went straight to the office and reported him. I ended up with a different partner. The day that I had to tell them that I had gotten a different partner, I was kind of about to lose it and sweating bullets. The face he made was of pure anger.

He started to yell racial slurs at me, I'm a quarter Latin and German. About how I was a Nazi, that I was a psycho, and he went on and on. And now a tip for people like me, just walk away. And that's what I did. I picked up my books and left. I found my friends and study partner and left. The only thing I cared about at that time was that he would not find where my apartment was or he would not threaten my friends or family and relationships. I went home that day with my friend, study partner, and boyfriend and they were scared for me. Once I got home I saw a little red package tied up with a little bow and of course this had to be from him. Classic maniac type move sending packages. We opened the package and inside were pictures of me and notes about how he was going to hurt

people and how he loved my eyes and so many other things about what he was going to do to me. Things that made me physically sick that I actually threw up. I stayed home and called my brother who was currently working as a police officer and he advised me to press charges. I did later that month and thankfully he was suspended. I got a restraining order against him and for a moment I finally had peace of mind. I'm a 45 year old male who lives in a small rural community in Wyoming. I believe there are only about 6,000 people that live in my community. You would never imagine in a town as small as this one that anybody would have to worry about having a stalker. Or at least, I didn't think so.

That was until, much to my horror, I discovered I had one. Let me preface this by saying, until I became a published author back in 2013, I was just another friendly face in the crowd, so to speak. Granted, I am well known in my community because I work at the local hospital and have for many years. At the time, I was working as the training coordinator for the front office staff for our medical clinic as well as the hospital. Getting my first book published generated a great deal of press in my hometown and statewide. The fact I quickly rose to a 5 star rating on Amazon only generated more press and interviews, therefore more attention.

Then when my second book came out in 2015, all of a sudden I was like the local celebrity. Being somewhat humble I was appreciative that the public helped me sell a lot of books but I was uncomfortable with all the attention. Local folks would come to the hospital just to have me sign their books. This is where my stalker story begins. On this particular day I am up in our medical office building where I was training a new hire when a rather large biker dude with long stringy blonde hair and covered in tattoos approached the front counter where I was standing. I smiled and greeted him with a warm hello and how can I help you? I was under the impression he was there to check for an appointment. He smiled and admitted he did not have an

appointment that day but was wondering if I could autograph the copies of my books that he had with him. Not wanting to be rude I said that I would be more than happy to and had him follow me down to the end of the counter so that we would not be in anybody's way. To be honest I was a bit surprised he brought them considering they were gay themed supernatural thrillers. I guess he just did not strike me as the type of guy that would read anything that was gay themed. Regardless, I thanked him for purchasing the books and signed them for him. He thanked me and left and I didn't give it any more thought.

Until a few weeks later, he showed up at the hospital where I was again at the front desk doing some training and asked me to sign two more books that he had said he had purchased for a friend. I again thanked him and signed the books. Fast forward a few months and I am filling in as the receptionist for one of our other clinics in a small town about 30 miles away from my hometown. The receptionist scheduled to work had called in sick that day and so I agreed to fill in for her. It was shortly after lunch when guess who walks in with both my books in hand? None other than Mr. Biker. Being at work

I remained polite and again signed his book and he was on his way. Feeling truly creeped out and concerned I spoke with the nurse on duty as well as the provider and expressed my concerns. They dismissed it as none other than an obvious fan who must have a little crush and nothing more. I figured they were probably right and went about my day. The weeks went by and I began to notice this large guy hanging out in front of my house and in the back alley behind it. He always wore a hoodie and so I could not see who it was. I pointed this out to my husband who reminded me that with the house up for sale, he was probably just someone who was either interested in buying it or a looky-loo. Then

one day my mother who lives right across the alley from me called me while I was out of town on a book tour to tell me some strange guy in a hoodie was casing my house and peering in the windows. I told her it was probably a potential buyer and not to worry about it. Fast forward a few months, I am back at the medical office building and are urgent care training another new hire when I get a call from one of the girls in central scheduling. She tells me she has a guy on the line who keeps calling asking for me but refuses to identify himself or why he needs to speak to me. Thinking it was a patient that had an issue of a more sensitive nature I told her to go

ahead and patch him through. Introducing myself, I asked how I could help him. I quickly discovered that he was not needing an appointment, nor did he have any medical concerns. He began telling me how he was naked and touching himself. He wanted me to know that he was thinking of me and he began to tell me all the sick and twisted things he was going to do to me if he ever got me alone. I was thinking, oh my god, what is wrong with this guy? I was actually flipping out at this point but somehow Stale managed to keep my voice calm and inform this idiot to never call me again otherwise I would notify the police. Unbeknownst to the clinic manager who was standing behind me and asked me what was going on. I explained the phone call and

what the creep had said. The manager was concerned and felt we needed to notify the police immediately. I met with a few officers and explained what had happened. They asked me if I might know this person and at the time I had no clue who it was. The next morning I received a call from a local detective who asked me if I would stop by his office before I went to work. He said he had more information on the guy who called me the day before. I agreed to meet him and called the clinic manager to let him know what was going on and that I would be in as soon as I was done talking with the detective. Upon reaching his office I was invited in and the detective got up from his desk and shut the door. He informed me that they did a search of the

number the guy called in from and came up with some rather disturbing information. He went on to explain that after learning who the guy was, the detective had done some digging, including interviewing some folks this guy associates with. What the detective told me next made all the hair on my body stand on end and sent my heart crashing to the floor. I was informed this guy had been watching or stalking me for over six months. Not only that, but he believes the guy had been in my house. I was shaking with fear and finding hard to breathe. I began to pace the floor of his rather small office.

I explained I don't even have a clue who this guy is or what he looks like. This is when the detective turned his computer monitor around and showed who it was. Lo and behold, it was biker dude. My blood ran cold and I felt like I was going to pass out. When I could collect myself I began to explain how he had been in my yard, the front and the back. He had been sitting in front of my house on the street. I also told him I had seen him walking up and down the alley between my mother's house and

mine. The detective informed me that this guy was a well-known gang and drug dealer from California and has been living in my hometown dealing here for a year now. He told me I needed to make sure all my doors and windows are locked at all times and always have somebody walk me to my vehicle and to never go anywhere alone. He said this guy had been accused of threatening to hurt witnesses in previous drug offenses and that this is why he was still on the street so to speak. Then much to my surprise and horror the detective asked me if I would be willing to befriend this guy and help the cops set up a drug sting operation. I was mortified and angry to say the least. I told him I needed time to absorb all of this

and get back to him. My manager and the CEO of the hospital met with me when I got to work that day and I told them everything. An organization-wide email went out with the guy's picture along with an alert asking that the COE, clinic manager and I be notified if the creep was spotted in any of the facilities. We are a small hospital so to speak so we have no security. Two weeks went by and things seemed to calm down. My husband and I had gone out for the evening and reminded our roommate that if he left the house to be sure all the doors were locked. We had already made him aware of the situation. He had seen the guy sitting in front of the house on several occasions but just shrugged it off. I need to get out of here for a

bit because I felt like a trapped rat. It was a great night and for a while I was able to forget about it all. Upon returning to the house, much to my relief, the front door was still locked. I walked through the house to the back door and it too was locked. Our roommate was sound asleep in his room and I breathed a sigh of relief and made my way to the bedroom. As I walked into the room I noticed my husband was reading something and he was white as a sheet. I asked him what was wrong and he handed me the sheet of paper saying that this was under

your pillow. Then he got up and began looking into the closets and under the bed. He then went through my entire house while I read on in horror. The letter said, Hello sexy, nice house. I love the smell of your pillow. I hope you don't mind but I borrowed a few of your sexy things. I will return them when I have added my own scent to them. Don't bother contacting the

police. I know when your mother is alone. I know your roommate's schedule as well as your husband's. By the way, your roommate is a very sound sleeper. I'll be seeing you soon. I called the police, but they said that there was nothing they could do since he was no longer in the house and I could not prove it was him because he never signed the note. I was pooping bricks because I could still not figure out how he had gotten in. Another few weeks go by and I begin to realize I am seeing him everywhere. At the grocery store, the pharmacy, I mean everywhere. He was always there lurking in the distance. It had gotten to the point I was now on medications to help me sleep

and antidepressants because I felt like I was losing my mind. I couldn't function because the cops kept saying they could do nothing about it unless he harmed me or was caught in my home. Sitting in front of it for hours on end or in the alley apparently is not illegal, and this went on for over a year. Where I work a professional job, I maintain my bubbly outward appearance in public but hid like a timid little mouse behind locked doors at night, too afraid to leave my house. One night about 6 months ago my husband and I awoke to lights flashing and people hollering outside. It sounded like they were right outside on the front lawn.

Peeking through the drapes I discovered that they were indeed right outside. They had some guy on the ground ordering him not to move. The fire department was there putting out a large 15 gallon gas can that had been lit on fire and placed on my front step. We threw on our robes and rushed outside where we were met by several police officers. They had the biker guy on the ground in cuffs. One of the officers informed me of the neighbors across the street calling reporting a suspicious character lurking in my front yard and they were carrying what appeared to be a rather large gas can. The officer also pointed out that all the tires in my car had been slashed. He went on to explain that the biker dude had placed the gas can

on my front step and lit it on fire. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I thought I was going to literally die of a massive coronary right there. I lost it and broke down sobbing. My husband on the other hand blew up. He was beyond angry. I was too but I was too overwhelmed with the fact that had our neighbors not been up and called the police, we could have been killed. Biker Dude is now behind bars but was only sentenced to two years on a plea deal. The scariest thing about that is the police nor the state is required to notify me in the event this creep is released. I live in South Africa.

Now, this happened about a year ago. I was living across our mall in a complex with my then-boyfriend. My cell phone broke, so I had to borrow my friend's cell for the time being. I could not go on Facebook or anything other than WhatsApp but every now and then I'll get a notification from Facebook that someone has commented on a photo. Not innocent comments at all. Things like, you're so pretty can I have your number and I'm in your church can we get together sometime. He even commented on how he sees I ride bike to work and he loves to hear me singing as I

go to work. I told my then boyfriend to please do something about it as he works in security and will be able to stop this but he said I should just ignore it and he'll stop. He didn't. Time passes and I left my ex and lived alone and that's when the real stuff started. The stalker started to comment that he sees I'm single and would like to have my number to get to know me better and he'll like to take me to work. When I didn't answer him, he phoned my work and asked to talk to me. I was luckily on my tea break so they took his name and number. My best friend and now boyfriend saw this, he grew super mad and messaged him to tell them that dark forces are protecting me. That night I got home and found a letter on my floor, pushed under my door, saying how he finds

me so attractive and giving me his number again, and again asking me to let him give me a ride to work as he lives in the same complex as me. I sent a voice note to my boyfriend while I was in tears. The next day we went to his job and showed the letter to his boss, and my boyfriend sent the voice note to his boss. His boss played it to him, and then only did he say he'll leave me alone. I moved in with my now boyfriend and haven't heard from stalker guy again. I'm forever grateful to my man for helping me through this. I'm 19 now and this took place when I was 11 or 12 years of age.

I've lived in Florida my entire life, born and raised here and for the most part the people are lovely here. That is, as long as it's still daylight. The night crowd is far less hospitable and unfortunately that is what my story is about. It was around 7 at night when my friends asked if I wanted to go fishing. Excited, I was like sure. It sounded like a great time night fishing with my buddies. My mother let me go and I was excited to fish this pond near some apartments we lived at. This decision, however, was a mistake. After getting our gear into a smallish red wagon, we set off across the street to go on our nighttime adventure.

We made jokes and cracks about gators in the pond, and the fishing itself was a blast. The part where it stops being so great was on the way back home when we took a long way home. Why would we do this? We were kids and friends. If you know one thing about friends is kids. You always want to hang out as long as possible and you'll use any excuse to do it. The sun had already set and I was walking slightly ahead of my friend. I'll call him Chris and Tommy. Chris was pulling the wagon and Tommy was close by him and we all were chatting it up when I turned around to add to the conversation, but soon noticed a silhouette of a man about 40 feet behind us. I was a bit unsettled and surprised, as all that was down here was grass and fences, and no one ever took this way.

I informed Chris and Tommy someone was following us, but they brushed it off, not believing me at first. I imagined they thought I was trying to scare them and get them to look behind them. I kept insisting someone was following behind us, till they finally got the hint and looked. It was at this point I realized the silhouette of a man was now only 25 feet behind us. My friend's faces grew pale and even more filled with fear as suddenly the man began running towards us. My friend's faces grew pale and even more filled with fear as suddenly the man began running towards us. I yelled for them to run and when looking back I saw our stalker's face. I'll never forget his face so long as I live. He was in his mid-forties, average height and he had the most

terrifyingly angry look on his face I've ever seen. We slipped through a fence and into an unknown neighborhood before pounding on the first door we found. An older gentleman opened his door and asked what was wrong. After telling him our story, he told us to hide behind his car and he'd find this man and talk to him. He was gone for maybe seven minutes but it felt like hours when he finally returned. He explained to us the guy saw our wagon and thought we stole something. The older man didn't seem to believe the guy's story and neither did we. We returned home and never told our parents anything. We were afraid we'd get in trouble if we did and we never went night fishing ever again. The story begins when I was pretty young, living in the home state of Mississippi.

I was riding with my mother after we had just dropped my two brothers off at my grandmother's house. We pulled up to our destination, a small convenience store on the corner, just a few blocks away from my house. Now, you have to remember this was the 80s so my mom had no issues leaving me alone in the car for a few minutes with the windows cracked open. Still, before she left, she turned around and said sternly, you stay in the car and don't open the doors for anyone. When she started making her way towards the store I heard someone call out her name. She looked over by the entrance where an old man I'd never seen before came up to greet her. My mom looked cheerful as she said hello and began chatting with the man.

As they spoke he looked over at me, a warm smile on his face. He seemed like a nice man, no signs of bad intentions and my mom seemed to like him so I smiled back. After a few moments my mom walked into the store to get some groceries. The old man watched her go in before turning back towards me. Me being a kid and seeing him talking to my mom in such a friendly way, I felt comfortable talking to him. So I rolled down the window a bit more. He started asking me the typical questions I guess you ask a kid you don't know. How old are you son? What's your name? What kinds of toys do you like?

I was having a perfectly fine time until the man made a complete 180 degree turn. The most haunting aspect of it, the reason why this stuck in my mind since that day, was that the only thing different was the words that came from his mouth. Everything else, his demeanor, expression, voice, stayed exactly the same friendly tone. I'm going to cut both your ears off, hang you by your legs and slice your throat. The words flowed out of his gentle, still smiling face. I was so confused because in no other way did he seem the least bit offensive or dangerous. My childlike mind struggled to process the dark turn in conversation.

He rose up away from the window, turned around and calmly walked away, leaving me in a state of shock. A few minutes later my mother emerged from the store. She saw the bewilderment on my face and asked me what happened. I couldn't explain myself, or maybe I was just too scared to say anything, I don't know. My mom broke the silence of the ride home when she mentioned that the old man was called Mr. G. She said that her family knew him when she was younger, but she was surprised to see him because he'd been missing for over ten years. For some reason I couldn't tell her what happened even though I wanted to. That day marked the beginning of two years of me being

secretly terrified of going to that store. The problem was that my mom took me there pretty much every time we went to visit my grandmother. Every single time we went there, the Mr. G would show up out of nowhere as soon as my mom went into the store. A year or so later, I had managed to at least tell my brother and cousins about my creepy encounters with that old man and unsurprisingly no one believed me. One day my mother was in a rush to get there and wasn't able to drop off my older brother so he was with me. The whole time we waited in the parking lot for my mom to come out he kept trying to scare me saying that Mr. G was right behind me. I was on edge, constantly scanning the area outside to make sure that the old man wasn't

around. The car window behind me was cracked open a little more than usual for some reason, just enough for someone's hand to reach in. There were a bunch of people standing around near the entrance of the store, grown men, all laughing and talking amongst themselves. As I looked at them, I could see them all sort of turn away, as if they were all trying to avoid seeing something. I felt a sudden kick in my back and I turned around to find the terrifying image of my brother gasping for air, large wrinkly hands wrapped tightly around

his throat. In disbelief, my eyes shift to look out the window where I see Mr. G standing outside the car, staring down at me with the same docile smiling expression on his face. He was muttering something in a strange language I'd never heard before. He let my brother loose and slowly walked away from the car, around the store and disappeared into the woods out back. The group of men who were there quickly dispersed, all going their separate ways and obviously avoiding eye contact with us as we sat in the car, two children crying hysterically. My mom burst through the store entrance running to the car

to check on us. We were still incredibly shaken but my brother gathered himself enough to tell her that it was Mr. G. She stared at us for a few seconds with a mix of awe and terror on her face. She told us that the old man had passed away a few days prior at the age of 87. She said she would handle it. I didn't know exactly what she meant. I wish I could say that that was the last we saw of the man but after another year had gone by we went to that store for the last time. That time my mom let my brother and I come into the store instead of leaving us in the car. We were on pins and needles the entire time. After an uneventful trip, we loaded back up the car and headed off to Grandma's house. My brother and I both got chills at the same time as we pulled out of the parking lot,

so we reluctantly decided to look back. A stinging terror took hold of my entire body when I saw Mr. G standing in the middle of the street behind us, smiling and waving us goodbye. My brother and I screamed, and my mother reflexively hit the gas as hard as she could. The corner store was somehow burned down soon after that happened. I don't know who did it, if it was an accident or if anyone died. I never really spoke to my mom about the whole ordeal until I was about 16. She told me that Mr. G used to practice some dark forms of strange rituals, often making sacrifices and performing these rituals of various kinds.

She never knew exactly why, but everyone used to think he was some big scary evil guy. She never had a personal problem with him because he was always so kind whenever she saw him, and I can't really blame her. deck. Pull up a seat and check out a wide variety of table games with a live dealer. From roulette to blackjack, watch as a dealer hosts your table game and live chat with them throughout your experience to feel like you're actually at the casino. The excitement doesn't stop there. With over 3,000 games to choose from including fan favorites like Cash Eruption, UFC Gold Blitz and more. Make deposits instantly to jump in on the fun and make same-day withdrawals if you win. Download the BetMGM Ontario app today. You don't want to miss out. Visit BetMGM.com for terms and conditions.

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If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to no time to date or meet any girls. Due to my busy schedule, I decided to make a Tinder account. I have never had any experience with such an app or online dating, and I didn't actually plan on meeting up with a random girl to go on a blind date or anything. I just wanted to see what the fuss was about and if it actually worked. So the app, still being something new to me, I matched with this really pretty girl.

She seemed short, light-skinned, and had a nice smile. Her account wasn't a catfish or any sort of fake profile, it seemed genuine and legit. I know that I didn't actually want to hit it off with any girl in this manner but she was very hot and I said screw it. So I slid into her DMs with a simple hey. A couple of hours went by and we got each other's Snapchat usernames and phone numbers. We exchanged Snapchat photos, so with that said, there's no way that her Tinder account was fake. I felt better knowing that for some reason. She said that she lived in the city that was about 25 to 30 miles north of mine. I had nothing planned for the next day and neither did she so we decided to meet up at her house the next day to mess around. The next day came by and we

planned to meet up at around 10 30. The neighboring city where she was from was about a 30 to 45 minute drive from my place so around 10 p.m ish. I decided to start driving over. As I am driving over, I get a phone call from her telling me to instead go over at a later time around midnight. I didn't mind since I had friends who lived in her city so I paid them a visit, meanwhile I waited for her. 11.45pm rolled by and I started to drive to her place. My friends didn't know what I was up to they just thought I popped in to visit them randomly. So this girl sends me her address and at first the address that she had sent me led me to this upper class suburban neighborhood. I reached the address and it was close to what I would describe as a white mansion. I called her to tell her that I

was parked in her driveway and I asked her to come outside so I could assure myself that I was at the right place. She said, I don't see you, are you sure you followed the directions? Well, to avoid any more mess ups, she just sent me her current location through iMessage. At first I found it odd, but I followed the directions to the location anyway. So midnight rolled by and I was on my way to her current location which was actually kind of far from the address that she had originally sent me. As I am driving the directions are telling me to drive off the path and into a dirt road surrounded by cornfields.

This spooked me a little because I was now in the middle of nowhere. I was about 10 minutes away from any civilization. Red flags started to go off in my head but I ignored them because there was no way that her account could have been a setup. I've seen her pictures on Snapchat and you can't photoshop those as far as I'm aware. So after driving through a dark, dirt road through the cornfields, the directions led me to a broken down old house. It looked uninhabitable. There were no cars outside or in the driveway. The only light I saw was the porch light. I call this girl to tell her that I was outside. She replies with, okay, I'll be right out. On a side note, I'm a

pretty big dude and I train every day. I'm not intimidated by others but there are some situations where you are helpless and have no option but to evade for the fear of your life. So I'm waiting by my car and then I see this figure come out the front door and it was dressed like a freaking nun. Black veil, long black dress, voodoo charms and she's also holding a voodoo doll on her left hand. I was pretty spooked out but I thought it was just a prank. I gave it a few seconds for the cameras to pop out but the person just stood there. I slowly started to realize that this wasn't a prank because a few seconds later I saw another figure in a similar black outfit peeking out of a door and starting to make a run towards me with an actual machete. I don't even bother trying to fight back because I knew I was probably going to end up

gutted or skinned alive by these psychos. I immediately jump in the car and floor it out of there. I then heard a gunshot a few seconds later behind me. I'm in my car screaming prayers with tears in my eyes because I was hoping to drive away with my life. Her number then kept calling me as soon as I left. I blocked it and then another number started to call me and I blocked it as well. I ended up staying over at a friend's house that night. I explained everything that took place and he wanted to go check it out together with our group of friends but I was too terrified to even go back there. I called the police and they went to go check it out but the place was abandoned by the time they got there. They said that the address has been vacant for years and they simply made a report out of it

and they were never found. The whole thing was a sick setup to begin with. The girl was planning on luring me so they could do god knows what to me. I deleted my tinder account. I'm pretty sure it works if you're only looking to get laid but I somehow had the worst luck the first time I ever decided to use it. Don't ever meet a stranger somewhere that isn't public. Things can always go sideways. Okay, this happened today and it really messed with me. I've been thinking about it all day and all evening. I took my five-year-old son and three-month-old daughter to the playground today to meet a friend and her daughter. It's got regular playground equipment, a huge parking lot, and a big grassy area and trees

surrounding the play area. On the other side of the trees is some sort of development thing they're working on. The area this school is in is pretty rural, it's just a bunch of twisty roads and random buildings. I've never thought about it or noticed this until today. We get to the park and meet up with my friend. Another mom that we know is there with her two girls too. The other people there is a dad with a little girl and a boy that looked to be somewhere between 10 to 12.

So the moms are all sitting, chatting, playing with my adorable daughter, having a good time. The kids are playing together, everything is good. Eventually all the kids from our group kind of wander off through the playground doing their own thing. The seesaws are in a shady area, next to them is a big stretch of grass, then the trees with the semi-developed area behind that. My son wants to seesaw but nobody wants to do it with him. I get up to go help him and the 10ish year old boy comes over and says, Hi, do you want me to play with him?

Which was a little strange that he asked me and not my son, but I said sure bud, go ahead. So he gets on the other side and starts seesawing with him. His demeanor was so strange, he didn't smile, his voice was completely flat, he didn't say a word to my son, he just seesawed with him. My son was oblivious and chatting away at him. After a few minutes I started walking back to my bench and I hear the boys start talking with my son. Okay so maybe he's shy around grown-ups. I sit down and start talking to my friend and the dad walks near us to probably go up to his car and I say, hey it was really sweet for your son to offer to play with mine. And smile at him. He looks at me and goes,

He's not my son. I don't know who he is. He walked over and asked if I wanted him to play with him. And said his daughter's name. And then just kind of followed us around until you guys got here. He sort of laughed like, weird and shook his head. I got a very uneasy feeling in my stomach and looked over to the seesaws. They're gone. I jumped up, hand my daughter to my friend and run in that direction yelling my son's name. I see them walking almost to the trees. The trees are not close, I guess a football field or so away

from the play area. I got this awful feeling and ran as fast as I could yelling my son's name. He turned around and started trying to walk to me and the little boy grabs his arm and tries to pull him toward the trees. He gets upset and starts saying, hey let go of me. Usually this is not a quality about my son that brings anything but trouble but he does not like to be grabbed, pushed or pulled and he has ADHD so when he gets frustrated it usually comes out in aggressive ways. I was so thankful for this today. He starts punching the boy and headbutting him like a little crazy person. The boy lets go as I get to them and runs to the trees. My friends are finally realizing something is going on and they're standing at the edge of the play area looking confused. My son is crying.

I'm shaking. I have no idea what just happened. I asked my son where he's going and he said his friend wanted to take him to see Ryan from Ryan Toy Reviews. It's his favorite YouTube channel and he talks about it non-stop. He told the boy about Ryan and apparently the boy told him that he knew where Ryan lived and did my son want to go visit him and play? So of course my son said yes. I don't know what the intention was. It was a kid. I don't understand why he would lie to my son, why he wanted him to go in the woods, why he was so weird. Maybe it was innocent, but honestly, I don't think it was. I was 11 years old. At the time I was living in an apartment situated on a street with an ongoing construction.

Needless to say they often tapped into the electric supply and the power fluctuated quite a bit. Therefore, the street lights often served no real purpose, especially in the winters when evening dawned on us with pitch black darkness. That is relevant, so keep it in mind. From what I remember, it was a weekend I was supposed to spend at my friend's house. For an 11-year-old me, this was an an exciting prospect having been loaded with school work the entire week. I was to spend what I believed to be Friday night sleeping over and spend the entirety of Saturday at her bungalow to return home that very evening. What made it even better was the fact that her parents had

an event they could not avoid and therefore trusted us to stay alone in their two-floor house for the entirety of the six hours they were gone. Back then, the idea of spending a whole night alone with my friend was great. No interference in a whole six hours of games and movies on their huge TV. As it turns out, my friend had other ideas. I arrived at her house just short of 8pm. It was already pretty dark out and her parents had waited for me to arrive before telling us about emergency contacts, dinner and the such. They also reminded us to get their 4 year old Labrador inside as the weather was acting up and his kennel had a few loose panels which leaked when it rained. This is also an important fact to be noted. After they left we watched a few cartoons, had dinner and were chilling in her living room playing cards. That's when my friend Sid had the ingenious idea

of exploring a fenced plot of land a few hundred meters down the street that she resided on. There was no construction happening in there so what little of that area didn't have shambles was overgrown with plants and weeds. We got the dog inside, leashed it to its long chain that allowed it to roam within reason, got the keys and left the house to make the short 10 minute trip. At this point it was about 10pm. In retrospect this is where we still had a chance to avoid this particular encounter but being the curious and daring 11 year olds that we were, we ventured anyways. Rather uneventfully we arrived and set to climbing

over the 2 meter wall. Luckily for us the wall was broken enough in places to make good holds to carry us over. Once inside, Sid suggested that we sit a few meters away from each other for as long as we could till one of us was too scared to do so. We faced each other and walked backwards till there was just enough light to see the general silhouette of the other. After what seemed to be like a good ten minutes I saw Sid's hunched form rise and start to walk toward me. She seemed to be walking rather fast and in a haphazard manner, jumping over rocks at such a daring pace even getting cut by some thorns in the process. She came up to me and just as I was about to laugh and call her out on being scared, she told me to get up

because she needed to go feed Shaggy. I remember being really confused because her parents had already filled his bowl with food and he had this water thing which she could operate in case he was thirsty but I saw her face and let me just say I've never seen her this pale. She looks like she had just seen a ghost. So without asking questions I said okay and we made our way back over the wall, albeit in a tense manner and rather quickly. The moment my feet touched the ground I felt Sid grab my arm and straight up just start sprinting down the street. To put things into perspective, I had a bruise from the way she grasped it for two weeks straight. So we ran like a demon was chasing us.

Arrived at her house and went in through her front yard fence gate. A towering metal gate without bars and she told me to unlock the front door while she deadbolted the metal gate's various locks into the ground, then the two gates to each other. At this point I was starting to panic but we got into the house and Sid then proceeded to run around the house locking and closing all possible windows and doors as well as pulling the curtains shut. I was very confused as to why she was doing this and so was her dog who stood there and followed her around while she did so. After about 10 minutes she came back into the ground floor living room with a very scared expression explaining to me that the reason she did all of that was because while we were sitting apart she happened to glance away from me

to a few meters to my right to see another human silhouette crouching in the bushes. She thought she was imagining it until it moved closer to where I was sitting and seemed to be unaware that my friend was watching them. She did not want to startle me or the person so she made up having to feed her dog as an excuse to get out of there without alerting the person still crouching there. After hearing this I was quite shaken and we hugged for a few minutes, "'deciding not to tell our parents, as they had very much warned us not to go out of her compound. "'We did not want this to be the last of our time alone together having fun,

"'and so we peeked out the window into the street, which seemed to be empty as far as we could see, "'and proceeded to put it behind us as excitement took over our minds once again. I would love to have said that that's where it ended, but what happens next has stuck with me till this date and I hold a fear of that situation from that point onward. To give you an idea of the layout of her compound, her house was surrounded on two sides by a lawn and the lawn was then surrounded by a wall some two and a half meters high. The wall had one entrance which were the tall metal gates I talked about previously. The house itself had windows all around the perimeter as well as two potential entrances. The first being the front door while the second being

a door to the small attached space next to the house which was made of see-through metal like the kind which metal fences are made of but stronger this space had a metal door with a lock only accessible from the inside as well as a door which was on the wall the space was attached to inside the space. However, this door only had a deadbolt on and was made of light wood. This is also of importance. So an hour or so in after the incident, we were upstairs in her air-conditioned room playing games on her computer and talking about whatever it is 11-year-olds talk about when we heard the dog bark downstairs. It was growling and seemed to bark at random intervals.

Keep in mind that her dog was a friendly Labrador who rarely ever growled or barked aggressively. My friend went to get the dog upstairs to her room and after she returned she informed me that the dog was standing near the front door growling at it and that it took her quite a bit of effort to get him upstairs as he kept trying to go back there. We were really confused as this was unusual for him to do and thinking that a stray dog may have caught his attention we decided to go into the balcony attached to a room that gave us a view onto the front lawn and a part of the street directly in front of the house. Instead of seeing what we assumed would be a stray dog or cat, we looked

down to see a person, standing very still in her lawn and in front of her front door. In the limited light we could make out heavy layers of muddy looking clothing and a head full of hair that looked very matted. The dog was with us in the balcony and was whining to be let outside. We crouched in her balcony and right as we were about to discuss what we should do, we heard what sounded like the front door rattling as if someone was trying to open it with the handle. We creeped back downstairs only to realize that this person had now moved on to the window next to the door and was trying to open that. The realization hit that he was trying to find an entrance into the house by going around the perimeter.

Just as we were about to creep back upstairs, my friend grabbed me again and in a hushed tone told me that she had forgotten to lock the attached space door in her hurry before. We both looked at each other and paled as we realized that it would gain the intruder easy access into the house as the inner door had nothing but a deadbolt. At this point we heard the windows rattling behind the house, nearly three quarters of the way back to the front again. The attached space door was a few meters away from the front door and we were lucky that he had chosen to go around the other side. She told me to wait by the inner door with the dog while she went outside and bolted the metal door. She then informed me to close the door as soon as she returned and that if she was caught,

to let the dog outside and to close the inner door as discreetly as possible as not to give myself away. We were both terrified and since we had no time to argue about it, I stood guard at the inner door while she went to the outer door, fumbled with the lock and returned inside, practically running as quietly as she could. We closed the inner door and just then we heard the outer door rattle harshly. Had she not gone there and then, there was a big chance that we would have no choice but to hide in her house had he found his way in. After he tried opening all the doors and windows, which took a while as he was doing it quite intently and forcefully, we found our way back upstairs and went back into her balcony to see if he had gone away as we had stood still near the foot of her stairs for a while listening for any further activity. As we looked down we saw him once again standing in her front lawn however this time we could see his head was tilted back and it felt like he was looking right at us. However, we knew that it was far too dark for him to be able to spot us

as along with closing all the windows and such, we had proceeded to kill the lights in her room as well as draw the curtains as to not let her little bedside lamp light escape the blinds. He then started giggling in the quiet of the night and proceeded to go down on all fours, crawling around the lawn in front of the house while his laughter grew. In retrospect, we should have called the authorities at this point but being the terrified 11 year olds we were, we did not want to get into trouble for not being able to follow simple

instructions. He did this for nearly half an hour only to stand up once again facing the street and then climbing on top of the kennel in the corner up onto the top of the wall and jumping down. We still stood in her balcony waiting to see if he would return but an hour or so passed where he didn't and that was the last time we saw of him the entirety of the night till at around 2am when her parents returned. The next morning we were very confused as to why all the doors and windows were closed on such a pleasant night and why there was mud on the front doorknob. We said we just wanted to play in the dark inside the house, lying about the actuality of the situation and to this day

I do not think the man has been caught. My boyfriend and I at the time were living in this semi-spacious studio apartment that belonged to his dad. We'd just moved back from England and needed somewhere to stay while looked for a new place. It was newly renovated and we had to be out of there pretty quickly because his dad wanted to start renting it out. There was no way we were able to afford the full rent for this place so we just gave him what we could spare and I guess his dad wasn't all too hot on the idea of his son and girlfriend, 18-21 at the time, living there, being as young and stupid as we were together.

It was on the third floor and he recently got a permit to build a roof deck outside. You can walk onto it through the kitchen and it's kind of level with the neighbor's bedroom window. We were aware that it must have felt a little invasive, so we tried to be considerate about how late we went out onto it and regarding the noise and stuff. The tension started to grow between us when we were outside on a Saturday night, having a smoke and we're just talking at a reasonable volume when suddenly we heard a harrowing,

Will you both shut up and get back inside? I look at my boyfriend and just burst out laughing. I looked around to see where it was coming from and it was an old sweaty hippo of a man peering out of his window gasping for air as he looked at us as if he was about to kill us. My then boyfriend said, Hey mate, you could also just ask us normally to keep the noise down. To which he started spewing countless obscenities and barked at us to go back inside. We didn't want his dad to get any complaints about us so we just went back into the house. Several days later we get a phone call from his

dad saying the neighbor had called him, saying we were blasting loud music all weekend, screaming and had loads of people over. He said he had to call the police. The thing is, even if he had called the police we would have been none the wiser because we weren't even there. That Sunday morning, we were going out of town for a few days, so it made no sense. Over the course of a few weeks, every time we'd go out to water the plants in the deck or hang up some washing, he would use any excuse to shout abuse at us. It was honestly traumatizing. The pressure in your hose is too high. Your clothes are blocking my sunlight. And some mornings we would eat out in the deck and he would complain about the noise of our cutlery clanking on the plates. It was honestly starting to get ridiculous. He would constantly

tell us how the roof deck shouldn't even be there so we gave him a copy of the approved permit. Anyway one afternoon we were kind a copy of the approved permit. Anyway one afternoon we were kinda getting busy on the couch, nothing too R rated but enough to maybe think of getting curtains that weren't as see through as ours were. So we're doing our thing and out of nowhere he looks up and out of the window and his face just drops. He gets up and walks towards the window. What? I jumped out of my skin and asked him what was wrong but before he could answer he leapt outside on the deck and

started banging on our neighbor's window. What just happened? I asked him. He was filming us. I could see a blinking red light through his blinds. I was just like, oh my god, no freaking way. I generally didn't believe it at the time and told him it was probably something else. Quite understandably, he wouldn't let it go. He would go out at night and try to look through his window for filming gear. You could only see so far back into his room so there was no actual certainty that he had any of that stuff. And one day he left his window open so I guess he wasn't home. Bear in mind, this was over the course of several weeks and he actually climbed halfway through his window, standing on the garden table and just freaked. At the end of the room there was just this wall of videotapes with all these dates and names written on them

and loads of heavy duty camera equipment at the end of his bed. We called the police and told them we were being stalked. Maybe it was just a coincidence at the time but I think our suspicions were justified considering his character. He was just an all-out horrible and creepy guy, and if he had footage of me half-naked, I wasn't going to take the chance. The police informed us that we didn't have sufficient enough proof that he was filming us, but that they would question him. Without any real evidence, they weren't able to get a warrant to search his house for the tapes. So after a while we decided the only way to do this was to catch him in the act.

It was pretty calm between us for a while. After we involved the police he stopped bothering us but I still wanted those tapes. One night we just got back from dinner and as we're about to go to bed and we hear a knock at the door It's our other neighbor who was super cool and asked us about this neighbor. We were having issues with a total understatement The whole street knew we were on bad terms Everyone usually kept to themselves, but they all hated this guy We told her the whole story and after talking to her for a while, she offered to call the police and tell them she also witnessed him filming us. The police came around the next day and informed us that with our neighbor's testimony that we

were able to acquire a warrant to search his apartment. A few days later, we watched the entire thing go down. Two police officers showed up to his apartment, gave him a letter and we just watched. An hour or so later he was arrested and that was that. We didn't hear anything back from the cops for a while until we got a call saying that he had been filming us for months. He had footage of us eating, of us napping on the couch, me getting changed, my boyfriend working out. It sent shivers down my spine. Not only was I absolutely furious, but really freaked out. We pressed charges and eventually he got a few months jail time.

We eventually moved out, but I never found out what they did with the tapes. I think they're probably in an evidence locker now. I'm a 28 year old female living in Scotland. I have a disturbing and odd story that I've never considered sharing until now. My cousin and I are the same age and were 14 at the beginning of this long ordeal. My cousin had gotten a new computer and had installed MSN, Major Instant Messenger, back then. She added a lot of random people. She started talking to one boy often. He claimed his name was Mark Halligan, age 15, from Blackpool, England.

They started talking every day, exchanging innocent pictures and becoming close friends. He soon admitted he was older, 16, and apologized for lying. My cousin gave him the benefit of the doubt and continued talking to him. He knew it was her birthday soon and wanted to send a gift to her house. She told me this and we wanted to see what he would send so she agreed. He sent her a lot of stuff. DVD player, a huge teddy, DVDs, CDs, clothes and sweets. To cover it up she explained to her parents that it was a prize from a school competition. Sending gifts became a regular thing. He told her that he made the money from an under 21 year old football placement. A few months passed and he wanted to come up to meet. She agreed but of

course the day before he was due to come up he confessed that he was in fact 21, had a car and a job. She was now 15 and thought it was appealing to be with an older guy and still went through with the meet. I phoned her that night and she didn't tell me much, only that she didn't want to talk to him again and didn't say much else about it. A few days later I received a friend request from Mark. I accepted and he told me that she had stopped talking to him and he wanted to know why. I didn't have answers other than she just didn't want to speak to him again. We started to become good friends. We were talking daily. I found him really funny and easy to talk to.

I told my cousin that we had been speaking and she asked me not to speak to him again and didn't tell me why. No explanation at all. That night I told Mark what my cousin had said and he asked to call me to sort things out. I agreed and later that night he called. The voice on the other end of the phone was male but squeaky. We spoke and he explained he had an accident when he was younger and that's why he sounded that way. I felt bad and kept talking to him assuming that was why my cousin got spooked. A few days later I got a call from my cousin who told me the large package had arrived at her house for me. I went to her house and we both opened it.

It was banned t-shirts, CDs, new Converse, books, an iPod, and money. I was happy being spoiled. You see it in movies, women being showered with gifts and attention. I called Mark to thank him for the gifts and he was happy that I was happy and we kept talking for a few hours. Lo and behold, he asked to come up to visit and I agreed. I told my best friend and she was very wary and insisted on going with me. The day of the meet we agreed on a location ten minutes from my house. We waited at the location. He was ten minutes late which magnified the nerves. A blue Volkswagen Golf belted towards us and slammed the brakes. At this point, both of us knew something was seriously wrong.

We sat for five minutes before getting out. What got out of that car was terrifying. We were expecting someone who was 21, handsome and tall. He stepped out of that car, was around five foot tall. He was in all denim. His face looked as if it was covered in burn scars. This man was easily in his 50s to 60s, which he was, and was truly intimidating. We smiled, said hello, and asked him to go on a walk and while walking my friend and I whispered and planned to get away. We told him that we were going to pop to a friend's which was en route to my house to get a DVD to watch at my place. Both of us hiding tears went to the door and leaving him on the street we could have

collapsed to the door. We quickly told him what was happening and that we needed to get away. He told us to lock the door and we went out the back door, climbed the fence and ran like the wind between houses and back gardens to a heavily wooded area that led to my house. We stayed there for hours. We knew roughly how long it would take him to get back to his car and maybe drive around to look for us so we had to keep away from roads and we thought if we stay put we would be safe, which we were. During this time we had calls from Mark coming through but let them ring out. We ran to my house and I called my cousin to ask her basically what was going on, what was this about. Her dad dropped her off and we talked it out.

The four of us stayed at mine all night and didn't leave each other alone for a few days. We both got texts and phone calls after the meet but we ignored them until he stopped. We were too scared to tell anyone so we decided to keep it a secret. Now cut to about six months later. My friends and I are going to Blackpool for a long weekend with her parents. About two days into the trip I got a text saying that he saw me in Blackpool and confirmed this by describing a mint green summer top that I was wearing and told me that he knew where we were staying. I told him to keep away or I'd phone the police. He apologized and agreed. The next day I was approached by the lady

that ran the bed and breakfast and she told me that I had an envelope. He had written a note that basically said not to phone the police and he would never call me again and included 500 pounds for my friend and I. Being stupid and not thinking we took the money, already spending it on our heads and never said a word. We didn't hear from him for about a year. He resurfaced by sending me a picture of him lying with his wrist cut. He texts after that telling me that my cousin and I had ruined his life because neither of us loved him. I contacted her and told her about the message. I went round to her house and we both decided to tell her dad and

he immediately contacted the police and went through us. They asked us to monitor any other contact and report it for evidence. Within hours of sending the picture, Mark had done something absolutely terrifying. He had called my cousin and her dad, insisted he listen in to the conversation? He told her that he had bought her a car and it was outside her house and he had left the area after dropping off and gave her a specific description of it. He told her that there was a car key on the wheel, a blue bow on the steering wheel and all the documents for the car were in the back of the driver's seat. My uncle phoned the police again, told them about the car and that he went out to

confirm Mark's description of the car. When the police arrived they arranged for the car to be towed and to trace the numbers and online profiles that he had used. The only information that we got back from the police since that day was that the car was registered in a Pamela Halligan, a person he had told us in previous conversations was his sister, which was confusing because he had told us that his sister had died tragically during an IRA bombing in 1979 at the age of 10. It was horrible to know he was watching us when we didn't know, was at my cousin's house when we didn't know. He could have been anywhere at any time, knew anything about us and had the capability to go to extremes. was at my cousin's house when we didn't know. He could have been anywhere at any time,

knew anything about us and had the capability to go to extremes. I researched his name a million times, different spellings and never found anything. I know his mom and dad owned a hotel in Blackpool and that's about it. We still get chills talking about him and often not been able to finish a full conversation about him due to the horrible realization of what he and we had done. My wife and I live in a somewhat medium quality apartment complex in a fairly well off city. It's a gated complex and we pay extra for security, so we thought it'd be fairly safe and secure. A lot of our neighbors sleep with the windows open. My wife also used to like to sleep with the windows open, or would occasionally leave the back door open early in the morning so the dogs could go in and out as they wished. Both of these against my wishes as I was raised to always lock all doors and windows before bed. Our back door opens onto a small private porch area with a cement slab and some low greens garden surrounded by a short wall, probably around four and a5 to 5 feet tall. I used to keep my collapsible bike back there,

folded up and locked. Nobody could even see it unless they're already on the porch and I kept it locked to a support pillar beside. A few months ago this bike went missing. The dogs went crazy one night and we couldn't figure out why. One moment we were all sound asleep, next moment the dogs would not calm down. I didn't take my bike to work that day but we noticed it was gone the next morning. We went through the necessary channels, it was an expensive bike costing upwards of a thousand dollars. We filed a police report, filed a claim with insurance and notified our apartment managers. This is when we find out that although there is technically video surveillance as part of our security package, it only covers the front of the complex, not the central green where our back porch is.

Since my bike was collapsible, it would be impossible to say whether somebody had it or not if they were leaving. We were hypervigilant for a couple of months after that. We have a good rental insurance so I got compensated for the loss fairly quickly. While we never really forgot, it didn't seem as important anymore as nothing more was happening. Our dogs weren't even waking us up in the night to be let out. Until a couple of weeks ago they did. My wife being tired and not thinking about it much got up and just opened the door for them so they could go in and out as they wished. She then went back to sleep.

This was around 4am. Thankfully nothing happened. The very next night though she wakes up around 4.30 to use the restroom. On the way back she notices an odd silhouette between the vertical blinds of our back door. As she looked closer she realizes she can see a man standing right on our back doorstep as if trying to peer through the blinds. She doesn't get a good look at him but immediately rushes to wake me up which I do with a startled shout. When she told me what happened, I immediately grabbed our detachable bedpost and go to take a look.

But though I'm trying to be quiet at this point, there doesn't seem to be anyone out there. We discussed briefly whether she was just jumping at shadows, but I did wake up somewhat loudly and my bike had been stolen a few months ago. We decided to talk to our apartment managers in the morning and go back to bed. The next morning, I go out in the porch again just to make sure nothing else was missing and that everything was undamaged, and I find that all of our greenery next to the wall had been trampled flat. There was definitely somebody back there that night. I try speaking with our apartment security and they say they can't do anything without a description. Unfortunately my wife didn't see the guy very clearly. Apartment management just

reiterates how they only have surveillance in the front of the complex. We didn't even bother making a report. It doesn't seem like there's even anything to report I don't even know what I would have done if he was still there when I got out to the porch maybe even yelled at him, I'm not sure for some reason our dogs didn't even wake up during all of this in either case the creepy man who was on my back porch

please don't come back I'd rather not meet The creepy man who was on my back porch. Please don't come back. I'd rather not meet. Freshman year I started a video club that was basically centered around creating and discussing original content for YouTube videos. Since I established it I was naturally president and my friend Pete was vice president because he knew a lot about making videos. One day Pete brings in a couple of other guys who are his friends, Beau, Matt and of course John. Fast forward to that summer we all exchange emails and keep in touch through Facebook. Later the same week I got

a message from both Pete and Matt at the same time asking if I was at all interested in John romantically. I was super taken aback at this because I had no idea that John liked me, like at all. He was always shy and hardly ever started a conversation with me. I said I wasn't allowed to date yet so it didn't matter. Flash forward to November of my sophomore year. John had asked me to both homecoming and snowball, a winter formal. I had turned him down both times gently. Things started getting weird when he would show up to the classes that I would be in, like he would walk in. This happened most often during English and Latin because he knew both of the teachers well and they let him sit in. He would sit next to me and try to talk to me. After school let out, I would immediately get emails from him, long ones, asking me about my day and other stuff like that. I never replied. Obviously,

at this point, I was getting uncomfortable with his constant presence. I tried telling him this but he didn't seem to get it. Not knowing what else to do I started trying to distance myself from him. It got to the point where he was outside every single one of my classes after they ended so that he could talk to me. I had friends escort me to and from classes to sweep me away from him. Then, the day before winter break, John gave me a note. I didn't think anything of it. I shoved it in my backpack without thinking. I read it later at rehearsal, at theater. Nothing could have prepared me for what it contained. It went a bit like this. I hate you.

I do not say these words lightly. If you hated me, you could have just told me. I wasted my friendship on you. I thought you were beautiful and smart, but... You're just an idiot. A dumb idiot that makes me feel worthless. And that makes me want to die. You're the reason why I want to end myself. If I do so, know that it will be your fault. I'm more depressed than I have been in

years because of you. What is your problem? Unfortunately, this wouldn't be the first or worst hate note he sent me. The others came after I got my first boyfriend, after I kissed a boy in front of him and when I got him kicked out of English class that I was in where he would visit me. Even after all this ugliness, he asked me to senior prom. The audacity. Things only got worse from there. He manipulated mutual friends into thinking I was the bad guy. He started talking all this stuff about me behind my back, and I caught him doing it twice. And like the coward he is, he immediately shrank from me when I caught him. Those mutual friends try to explain that John doesn't get social cues and that he's socially awkward and that I should just let it go.

And like an idiot, I did. I didn't report him to any teachers. Everything came to a head the last day of May that year. It was the official last day for seniors. I walked into the pre-class hangout room. It was our theater's director classroom and everyone said their good mornings there. John was there and given everything that had

happened I decided to ignore him. When he saw me come in he made a beeline for me. The room was crowded so I wasn't able to physically avoid him. He shoved me into the wall behind the door. I fell to the ground and my head smacked against the open door. I was disoriented but I distinctly remember him saying, trash, before walking out of the room. I burst into tears of frustration and exhaustion. Those in my immediate vicinity saw what happened and got me to calm down. After that, word got around about how John was actually a monster. I still didn't report him but honestly I wish that I did. The stories featured in this video are based on true experiences from subscribers of the Mr.

X-Dreams YouTube channel and the Dreamer Cast Paranormal Podcast. If you or someone you know has a fascinating true paranormal experience you'd like to share, check out MrXDreams.com to submit your story. That's M-R-X-D-R-E-A-M-S dot com. Enjoy. A year ago I met a very interesting man who eventually became a good friend to me. I'll call him Chris, to protect his identity. We both have a military background so naturally we spoke about some of our exploits in those past lives. He had an unexpectedly haunting story to tell and when I later got this channel up and running

I asked if I could share it with you. So here we go. This took place on an undisclosed military base located in the damp jungles of a remote island. Chris says he remembers the wilderness being unnervingly quiet for at least a week leading up to the incident. The personnel stationed there chalked the silence up to a change in seasons or something. There had been reports of bizarre sightings, fast-moving animals no one could explain. Anyone who mentioned them was typically shut down with ridicule from fellow soldiers. The sightings were notably inconsistent with one another.

Some saw large eyes, others saw small ones. Some heard a big thing trudging boisterously through the woods. Others heard the sounds of something small and light sneaking around in the bush. No one had seen anything worth defending in an inevitable argument, let alone losing their reputation over. Chris heard every report due to the fact that he was the desk sergeant at the time. Anyone who saw or heard something off, which could potentially impact the security of the base, would typically come to him to have it notated in the log. He never took the more fantastical reports seriously enough to actually write them down, unbeknownst to the concerned soldiers who came to him.

Some of them came just to talk about what happened, off the record anyway, which would typically end with them just trading ghost stories. On the night in question, Chris and his team were on the far side of the island, an area which was completely uninhabited, where no human presence could be found for hundreds of miles in every direction. For that reason, the military chose that location for storing their weapons and explosives. Chris and a partner, who I'll call Barry, were conducting the nightly checks on the magazine's storage areas, which lay several miles deep into the uninhabited zone. The jungle was still weirdly quiet, but it was good for them, being that their mission was to detect foreign

intelligence or operatives tampering with U.S. equipment, or the occasional refugee group that was washing ashore. They were on a road that rested in the valley of two mountains, bordered by gigantic hills, thick and rocky with tall grass. As they drove along slowly with their Humvee windows down, they heard a heavy thud coming from the woods. A totally unexpected, unnatural sound emanated clearly from the tangled growth. The first thud drew attention but was quickly followed by other noises. Barry shut off the headlights and shut off the engine so they could sneak up on whatever was out there. They knew anyone attempting to navigate the dense vegetation would have to do so carefully taking time to avoid injury.

But surprisingly they could hear fast paced, rustling through the tall grass. After a few moments, the sound began to move parallel to the road. They restarted the vehicle and started to pursue the noise. The walking continued for a while as they followed it with only their running lights before suddenly stopping. They at first thought they'd lost track of whatever it was, so they turned the headlights back on, assuming it was a deer or something, and continued a distance down the road. As Barry proceeded to turn the high beams on, both men noticed something in the distance, approximately 30 yards ahead. A humanoid creature jumping into the road and then into the brush on the other side. It was grey, over two meters tall with a small

oval head. Its movements were too swift for its size. The best way he could describe its leaping motion was like that of an impossibly nimble frog. Seeing the creature instantly gave Chris the feeling of being punched in the stomach. His heart sank so rapidly and adrenaline kicked in so fast that he began to feel nauseous on the verge of vomiting. He laments the fact that neither of them had the will to chase after the creature but that the feeling of being at such a disadvantage was absolutely petrifying. The idea that they were stalking it raised the question, were they hunting or being hunted themselves? Whatever it was, the monster definitely had the tactical advantage of position and mobility. Chris and Barry turned their truck around and sped off into the night The woods remained silent for at least another week returning to the normal droning sounds of the local wildlife

This came from a conversation I had which quickly turned into a live interview with a friend of mine who lived in the neighborhood until very recently. His name was Gabriel, so today I thought I would try telling you the story rather than reading it from the perspective of the person who lived it. One evening, he and I were talking when the topic of discussion meandered into the territory of the strange, a thing that is quite common when I talk to people. As the keywords began to pop up, ghosts, vampires, dogmen, glitches, etc. I noticed a peculiar spark of familiarity, a passion in his eyes that told me without a doubt, he himself had seen something in his time. Gabriel was a native of Costa Rica. He grew up most of his life there before immigrating to the United States. When I asked him if he had ever seen anything odd, his eyes widened.

Yes, yes I did, he said, half excited, half under his breath. Have you ever heard of Cadejo? I had not. As he spoke, I ran an image search of the Spanish word. Gabriel's eyes shifted, almost looking past me as he recounted the story of a dark night in San Jose, Costa Rica when he was only 10 years old. He lived with his mother and father and older brother in a small suburb called Las Animas, meaning City of Lost Souls. The family home was a brand new construction on a street with only two houses that were separated by several empty lots. Gabriel's father was a metal worker so he made sure his home was fortified with steel doors, door frames and window bars to withstand the high crime rate

of the small town. The small backyard was walled in to make it less attractive to robbers and they had a Doberman guard dog named Rambo to keep watch when the family was out and about. The dog had to be trained to only accept food from Gabriel's father because thieves in the area were known to try and feed poison to guard dogs in order to gain access to homes. In that neighborhood there were typically an unspoken curfew for children after dark. If they were away from home and not with their parents or didn't have a ride home they were basically to stay the night wherever they were, just to be safe. So, one night, Gabriel and his brother Miguel were over at their friend Carlos' house, who happened to live in the only other house on

their street. They ended up staying until just after nightfall, but they really wanted to go home anyway. The two brothers debated with Carlos and his mother about walking home. Although both houses were extremely well lit with floodlights, there was about 75 yards of unlit dirt road and knee-high grass between them. Now they had made the trek into darkness before, but always with their mother waiting outside, keeping an eye on them. This time she was nowhere to be seen, making the boys feel a bit more apprehensive. As their debate continues, their mother finally stepped out and began to wave at them to come home. When they saw her, the boys started on their way in a jog,

turning back to say goodnight to Carlos and his mother as they went back inside. And this is where things get weird. When the boys turned back to look at their mother, she was gone. What they saw instead, standing across the street in the middle of a field, a ways up the road, was a dog. The boys slowed to a deliberate walk as their old tennis shoes scraped along the unpaved, overgrown road. They stared at the dark figure in the distance, trying to decipher it. They could tell it was a dog, no surprise. They had to, but it looked far too large and imposing

to be of their Dobermans. They noticed the glimmer of a thick chain wrapped around the dog's neck. The eerie sound of the metal rattling permeated the night air. For a moment they told themselves it was just Rambo, that maybe he broke free of his chain and got out. The brothers argued over whether or not it was Rambo as they walked steadily toward the house. The closer they got to where the mysterious dog was, the more they noticed that it seemed to be growing in size. When they finally realized that what they were looking at was not their beloved Rambo, the two young boys halted in their tracks. Gabriel looked up at Miguel.

Now as we sat in my studio, Gabriel's eyes began to well with tears. He said that despite all the trouble they'd gotten into, it was the first time he'd ever seen his big brother scared. They didn't know it at the time, but what they were seeing, the thing that was watching them, was a cadejo. What you and I know as a kind of hellhound. The black dog shifted its ominous gaze between the boys in their house, looking back and forth over and over as if acknowledging that at any moment they were going to have to make a run for it. It stood as an imposing wall between them and safe haven. The boys knew that they were too far to make it back to Carlos' house without being caught, but continuing down the road felt like certain death. The best chance was to walk back the way they came. They slowly turned and started back, when they heard

the front door open. Their mother emerged from the doorway with her hand shielding her eyes from the floodlights. Throwing the fears into the wind, the brothers made the only decision they could. They broke into a sprint, running harder than they ever had before to save their mother. The hound's head shot toward her and it catapulted its massive body into the air, leaving at least thirty feet in one terrifying motion before violently slamming into the ground and beginning its own mad dash toward the house. The beast cut a wide path through the tall weeds of the field. The loud metallic sound of the chains intensified as it closed in. Somehow, the boys were able to get to their mother before the hound,

grab hold of her and pull her inside. They slammed the doors behind them and retreated inside. Their mother prayed in a state of disbelief as the front door trembled with blow after blow from the enraged monster outside. After only a few moments of excruciating terror, the noise suddenly stopped, replaced by a loud car horn blaring from outside the garage. Gabriel's father yelled at them to activate the metal-clad garage door from inside the house. Miguel hit the switch, opening the garage door and was promptly scolded by his father for letting the dog outside.

Gabriel and Miguel opened the front door and looked around, finding no signs of the Cadejo. As they continued to investigate, they found poor Rambo cowering in fear, hiding in a small crawlspace under the stoop of their porch. As I wrapped my head around this intriguing story, jotting down notes on my computer as quickly as I could, Gabriel's face lit up at my clear fascination with his experience. He told me, you know what? I use my real name. I have another story for you. Have you ever heard of La Llorona? I told him I did, but that's a story for another time. My name is Lou. First off, I love your channel. It's so great that people have a place to share

their stories. It's this community and the environment you've created that has emboldened me to actually share my own life-altering experience with the unknown. I normally don't like to talk about it for fear of what people would think, but if there is any place I'd find some level of compassion and understanding, it must be here with you and the people who listen. Several years ago I was on my way home from work in the financial district of lower Manhattan. I worked in an office building literally a block away from Wall Street. This was late 2011, around the time of those Occupy Wall Street protests in Zuccotti Park.

The streets were packed with people wearing backpacks and headphones, carrying signs and megaphones. It was pretty much impossible not to bump into people as you tried to navigate the narrow sidewalks. The hassle wasn't anything special to me. I had my earbuds in with music playing to drown out the noises during my commute, just like any other day. I do consider myself a New Yorker through and through after all. However, in order to get to the subway and back home to Queens, I had to either go around or right through Zuccotti Park, which did get a bit annoying after a while. Still, crowded streets are a part of reality. Unfortunately, the same is true for the millions of homeless people taking refuge in the various

nooks and crannies of the city. I'm not a saint or anything, but I do try to at least drop a bit of spare change in their cups every so often. I wish I could say it was every time, but it's not. I want to help when I can but I'm embarrassed to say that I'm sometimes in such a rush that I don't even notice them there. I guess that makes me no different than the people who just breeze by the needy without giving the poor souls even a single glance. Sometimes it's as if the homeless are an invisible element in our cities subsisting on the scraps left behind by those more well off. I think that may be the reason what happened that afternoon, right in the midst of crowds of people,

was able to go unnoticed. I don't think anyone but me realized or even cared about what was happening. The park was too crowded for me to walk through. Instead of trying to fight my way across the subway, I had decided to circle around and try a different stop in a quieter area. To get there, I cut into a side street that was significantly less busy. The moment I set foot there, I was struck with a feeling of heaviness and dread that instantly plunged my previously decent mood into an abyss. I couldn't understand why or where it was coming from, so I pulled out my earbuds and turned my music off. I felt I needed my senses to be as sharp as possible for whatever danger I was sensing. As I tucked the earbuds away

into my coat pocket, a pungent odor began to creep into my nose. It was the smell that hits you when you walk into a subway car that a homeless person has made their home. I looked ahead toward the corner of one of the buildings to see a surprisingly young man in torn up jeans and a hoodie. He had wild black hair and a long unkempt beard. He rocked back and forth with a look of utter hopelessness etched into his face. He clutched a small cardboard sign covered in writing. I picked out a section that read, Help, please, Army vet. Lost everything. Just need $40 to get back home. There were very few people walking down that particular street, but there were enough passing

through that he would occasionally pop out from his corner with his arms outstretched holding the sign, begging for acknowledgement. It was a sad sight to behold. I felt terrible knowing that I had nothing on me to spare, so I would inevitably end up being one of those people myself, walking by him without seeming to care at all. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I saw an odd looking man further down the road walking toward the homeless guy. The strange man stopped and crouched down to the homeless one's level. After staring at him for a moment, the stranger reached into his pocket and pulled out a large roll of cash, holding it out in front of

him as if to offer it, but clearly holding back. It was a bizarre sight, especially in New York City, but at least I no longer felt guilty for being unable to help the poor guy. I wish things went as you would expect from that point on, but unfortunately, that's where things began to get weird. To be honest, I've been building up this long preamble because every time I think back to this event, a sharp chill runs down my spine and I swear my eyes tear up. As I continue to walk toward the pair I realize that everything, like the world around me, began to slow down somehow. The loud noises of city streets faded into a soup of auditory blur. Every sound muffed as if I was holding my hands over my ears or had my head underwater. As this was happening, I realized I was staring at the strange man holding the wad of cash.

I noticed how ordinary he was. Everything about him was plain. He was dressed like any other white-collar worker. A simple or even slightly ugly brown suit hung loosely on his slender frame. He wore a tie and dress shoes and carried a generic leather briefcase. He also had a matching brown hat on his head, angled to hide the top half of his face. Looking back, I wish that was all I had seen. As I slowly made my way closer to them, the stranger lifted his head to meet the confused gaze of the homeless man. That's when I stopped dead in my tracks. The formerly bland appearance of the man became clearer to me and I noticed two haunting features. His skin was a bizarre ashen white.

Not paper white, but not quite grey either. His eyes? They were a deeper black than I could ever describe. I tried my best to rationalize what I was seeing. A guy wearing black contacts in a business suit would be a little weird but I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time someone made those particular fashion choices out in New York City. I can tell you this though, a regular guy dressed that way would not be enough to stop a New Yorker in their tracks like it did me. It was more than the look of him. It was the feeling I got from him. It was like being punched

in the chest. As a child I dealt with frequent asthma attacks and as an adult I've had more than my fair share of panic attacks. But this was something else entirely. Much worse. A heavy, nauseating feeling that was born in the pit of my stomach and crawled up my chest before nesting in my throat. The air had become solid around me as I stood there frozen. I could see in my peripheral vision that other people were still walking by through the side streets, although they moved in slow motion. After a few moments, the strange man and the homeless man's voices seemed to emerge from the muffled white noise of the rest of the city. Their voices slowly became clearer and clearer. I missed a lot of what was being said but certain words stood out.

I don't want to die. The words stuttered from the homeless man's mouth as he reached for the money. His eyes were fixed on the roll of cash yet steeped in hesitation and fear. The stranger smiled at him and I swear to you, something about that smile made me want to scream. It was that moment I realized I couldn't scream even if I wanted to. I could do nothing but stand there helplessly, my feet nailed to the concrete sidewalk as the scene played out just a few yards in front of me. The stranger's response was chilling. Oh. Well, you're going to die either way, Robbie.

Judging by the homeless man's reaction, that must have been his name. At the mention of his name, Robbie sat straight up with a look of slack-jawed amazement tinged with horror. Side note, going forward, I'll refer to the man in the brown suit as Brown. This will be important in a few moments. So before Robbie could say anything, Brown lifted his hands as if to give an important presentation and spoke again. His voice was just so wrong. I can only describe it as oily, gravelly, and wet, like someone trying to talk through a mouth full of phlegm. If you think the description sounds gross, just imagine how foul it made me feel hearing it. The question is, do you want to die happy and comfortable, wanting nothing? Or here in this alley where no one will even notice until you've been rotting a while? I still don't know how that scream didn't fly out of my mouth after what happened next.

If I could have moved at all, I might have jumped right out of my mouth after what happened next. If I could have moved at all, I might have jumped right out of my skin. A third voice chimed in before its corresponding figure stepped into my view. Another strange man, nearly identical to Brown except taller and somehow even thinner and wearing a gray suit. I'll call this one Gray for the sake of organization. Gray held a lit cigarette and stared down at Robbie with a tired ambivalence. Take the money, Robert. We have things to do. Robbie nodded with a resigned expression as he took the cash. He gasped as he clawed at the bill's unfurling, surprising amount. This is so much! he exclaimed.

I couldn't make out what was said next. I saw Brown stand up next to Gray, followed by Robbie standing and gathering his few possessions from the ground before thanking the two strange men and briskly walking toward me. He brushed past me in a hurry, thanking God over and over again, crying. I still couldn't move. I was stuck there as the two strangers' gaze fell onto me when Robbie was out of sight. The two sets of pitch black eyes staring at me gave me the distinct feeling of being watched by something not human. Their mouths moved as if speaking to each other

but I couldn't make it out. The volume of the white noise around me was going crazy, up and down, it was disorienting. Eventually I could hear a few bits of their conversation but the language was unlike anything I've ever heard. Now think about this. I speak fluent Spanish and understand bits of many other languages, Italian, French, a little Japanese, Arabic, and even some Yiddish. You tend to pick up little things here and there living in New York. I can certainly place a language roughly when hearing it. What the strangers were speaking was unlike anything I'd ever encountered. The sounds they were making was unlike anything I'd ever encountered. The sounds they were making weren't even sounds that people made. It actually caused me physical

pain in my ears when I really began to hear it, like when your ears pop on an airplane. The feeling when you know there's pressure there but you can't get it out, so it stings. The pain got so bad I wanted to vomit. Brown snarled a word at his friend in the same wet voice. English. Gray made a bizarre clicking noise, smiling the same horrific smile Brown did earlier. That far gone, huh? It'll be fine, Brown responded. Yeah? Then why'd you lie? What Brown said next still keeps me up at nights. Even all these years later, he rolled his shoulders back and grunted. Doesn't matter. I'll be wearing that stupid chimp by the next moon, and made clicking noises. My eyes began to well with tears as I tried desperately to look away. I was still paralyzed. Slowly the world began to creak back toward normal

speed again. I'm telling you, I'm trying so hard not to cry as I sit here typing this. Just like the plight of Robbie or any other homeless person, no one bothered to even look at me as I stood there in terror. People were there, moving slower than normal, at least from my perspective, but no one stopped or noticed I was in trouble. Gray looked directly at me. My head started swinging and I felt immediately dizzy. My vision blurred and I lost focus on all things except one thing. Grey's voice. Well now.

Look what this one can do. Cute. Suddenly, Brown stepped forward from the blur in my eyes. His black eyed face sneered at me from mere inches away. Whatever. A chimp's a chimp. They're all the same. Hey, you, chimp. Leave. Now. He snarled again, and I felt it in my bones. Keep walking. He snarled again, and I felt it in my bones.

Keep walking. I wish I could tell you what happened next, but the next thing I knew I was standing on the sidewalk all the way at Columbus Circle in Midtown, almost a half hour's walk north of where I was. A man I didn't know was holding my shoulders as random people passed by with concerned looks on their faces. When things came back into focus, I could finally hear the man's voice. Yo, you alright son? He asked with a trembling voice. You almost walked into traffic man, you okay?

Must be on drugs. Someone yelled out as they scooted by. I told the man I was okay as tears began to run freely down my face. I apologized and fled the scene, rushing over to the escalator to the A train having no idea how I got so far uptown. By the time I got home, I realized I wouldn't be able to tell anyone, not even my wife. She'd definitely think I was losing my mind. I haven't seen those strange men or whatever they were since that day.

I thank God for that. Over the years, I've done research into the paranormal to try to identify what they may have been, but I haven't found anything with their description of actions. Now I've heard of black eyed kids, and the vibes people seem to get from them are similar to how I've felt with brown and grey, but the situation overall was different. These were grown, at least middle aged males I think. I don't know what I saw. It still messes with me. I've been to therapy about this and have tried rationalizing but no luck. Whatever the case, I can say that nowadays I can go about my daily life without thinking about that incident. Whenever I allow myself to reflect back on it, it shakes me up. And I'm not immune to late nights of insomnia for fear of nightmares.

I still question my own sanity every so often. Was this... was this even real? In my research and experience, I find cinnamon seems to work to ward off mimics. It worked for the family of a friend of mine. That's the reason I write to you today. I'll explain. This happened when I was a little girl in the early 90s, maybe around 1993. I had a friend named Sandy. Sandy was an only child until the birth of her sister, Faye. One summer when Sandy was about 7 years old, her parents decided to take a cross-country

road trip to Disney World in Florida. The family had a great time at the park, but as many of us know, the days went by in a blur. I guess the human mind can only take but so much childlike wonder and amazement before the memories start to run together. Before she knew it, Sandy and her family were packing up the minivan to head back home. This is where things got weird. As they finally made it home and unpacked their things, there was something wrong. Sandy noticed that somehow there was no longer just one Faye, but two. She didn't trust either of them, getting a strange feeling that each of the two-year-old girls were aware of some hidden deception. Shortly after their return, Sandy's parents began going out and purchasing duplicate furniture pieces

to accommodate the new addition to the family. I remember talking to her and us both being confused about the whole thing, even with our young, normally carefree minds. For quite a while, her parents simply referred to both girls as Faye, but eventually they took to calling one of them Kay. Here's where the cinnamon came in. Sandy's mother used to make her favorite cookies, snickerdoodles. After Kay showed up, Sandy complained that her mom never made them anymore.

Cinnamon is a key ingredient. In fact, any traces of cinnamon basically vanish from the house before we notice. One time when Kay was about four years old, the four of us were at a mutual friend's house eating cereal. Kay tried a piece of our friend's a mutual friend's house eating cereal. Kay tried a piece of our friend's cereal that was flavored with cinnamon sugar. She quickly spat it out, saying that it was icky. However, as she recoiled and grimaced, I noticed that she began to undergo some extremely disturbing changes. Her tongue and lips blackened and the texture seemed to briefly shift and texture to something less than human.

It was as if her skin had become charred and burned with the blackness spreading across her lower jaw and up to her nose before retracting back to normal with frightening speed. The only reason I noticed it was because I was so distrustful of her. I usually found myself staring at her with a constant sense of suspicion. Faye, the original one, I think, had been eating the cereal by the handful. Kay started crying and knocked the cereal out of her sister's grasp, making her wash her hands before dragging her back to their house down the street. Sandy's mother forbade her children from visiting the house after that based on something Kay told her and we never found out what. The weirdest part of all this is that Sandy's parents never acknowledged the weirdness of all this. The mysterious appearance

of an extra child in their home, the clear lack of preparation that made them have to go out and buy duplicates of everything and so many other effects. Kay had the ability to make her presence seem so un-extraordinary. Eventually, I lost touch with Sandy and her strange family after a series of bitter fights and arguments between her and I. We basically ripped each other to shreds emotionally, and I didn't see them again until the late 90s when my brother died. For some reason, Kay had clearly developed an intense hatred of me. I found that out over the years. They had been constantly sick with flus and other maladies.

No one knew exactly why. Sandy finally moved away when her parents divorced. Please share this story because I would hate for anyone to end up like Sandy's parents, having one of their children truly mimicked with no knowledge of which is the original one. What's even worse is that a mimic can tie its life force with its victim and in that case, they really will have an extra child, one that's secretly a demonic parasite with an extreme allergy to cinnamon. My name is Tom. I wanted to share a story with you I've kept to myself for many years. And all this time, it's been both a haunting memory and in some ways, oddly a pleasant one.

I live in Alabama, but my family roots run deeply in Ireland. My grandparents have been telling me stories about the fae of Celtic legend since I was five years old. Leprechauns, changelings, fairies, and the subject of this story, the banshee. I've always took my grandparents at their word, assuming the legends to be true, up until my teenage years when I began to grow up, or so I thought. As I'm sure you've guessed by now, there came a time when I was forced to see that I was wrong. The night before my high school graduation, my grandfather passed away due to a heart attack and I had to open my eyes to the legends once again. That very night I became a true believer. Needless to say, I didn't make it to my graduation ceremony, opting to stay with my grandmother and keep her company.

She was understandably broken up. At about 2 in the morning, 5 hours after my grandfather passed, I decided to sneak out to the front porch of my grandmother's rural home for a quick cigarette while everyone else was sound asleep. The night was cold and dimly lit by a full moon. After my first drag from the cigarette, the gravity of the situation hit me and I lost it. Tears streamed down my face as I contemplated life without the man I grew up loving. All the memories came flooding in like a tidal wave crashing at the shores of my mind. It took me a while to cool down, but eventually I was able to collect myself.

Just as the feeling of flushed out emotional energy started to wash over me, I heard the most bone-chilling scream I've ever heard in my life. My head darted frantically, straining to find something to pick out in the low light. My eyes caught on a splotch of paleness not far away from the house. It was a long, flowing white dress. As I scanned upward analyzing the unexpected figure, I could see strands of long black hair dancing in the wind, obscuring the mysterious face of a woman. One word came to the forefront of my mind as I desperately searched for an explanation. Banshee. As I stared on, I noticed another figure standing next to the woman. After focusing my eyes on it, I could clearly see that it was my grandfather.

He was right there, just meters away from me. Five hours after he was taken away by the ambulance to have his final wishes carried out he gazed longingly toward the house while the woman stared away into the distance i watched them petrified for what seemed like an eternity before the banshee suddenly turned her head to lock eyes with me My heart seemed to stop as the details of her legend came back to me The banshee was said to be something like an angel of death Appearing to signify the death of someone Some say she appears to take lives A few seconds later she unleashed another unearthly scream as my grandfather raised his hand to bid me farewell one last time.

The two vanished before my eyes, leaving me alone in the darkness. After that night, the way I saw things was forever altered. I realized that the world we think we know is far too strange to make many hard claims. This event began what I strongly feel will be a trend in my life. I have this inkling that my future holds many more bizarre encounters. I've had a few more already. I'm a 24 year old male living in the Philippines. The story I wanted to share with you isn't exactly my own but was told to me by my father some years ago. The events transpired when I was only a year old. Back then my family lived in a pretty rural area where everyone knew everyone. We also had a ton of relatives nearby living in the same group of

neighborhoods. One day my dad was outside in the backyard watering plants. He was minding his own business when he suddenly noticed an unusually large black bird perched in an old tree. The branches of that tree hung low, so my dad got a much better look at the bird than I'm sure he wanted to. He didn't think anything of it at first, but he soon noticed that the bird's eyes were a deep red. Not glowing or anything like that, but more like they were severely bloodshot. He said the birds sat there, staring at him, returning my father's ponderous gaze just as intently as he watched it. Dad was unsettled, but soon got back to his work, got done watering, and went outside. A few hours later, it was night. Dad went back outside to do some more chores in the yard. Now the way our houses were

set up there was sort of an alleyway with a fence that separated our house from the one next door. My dad was finishing up when he caught a glimpse of something small scurrying across the alleyway making a splash in a puddle of water. Since we had a pet turtle at the time, a red-eared slider, dad thought that maybe the turtle got out of his tank somehow and was trying to run off. He walked over to the dark alley and, upon closer inspection, found the culprit. Oddly, what he found there was a large crab of some kind. This wasn't a common sight in my area. The crab the size of a dinner plate. The strangest part was that, in the low light coming from the back of our house,

my dad could see the crab's eyes. They were the same deep blood-red color of the black birds he'd seen earlier. The crab stopped in his tracks and stared him down. That same intense glare from his encounter with the large bird. He quickly dropped what he was doing and went back inside the house, admittedly creeped out by yet another bizarre animal sighting. The next day, dad went to speak to the neighborhood elders about what he'd seen. They told him it was an Aswang. So if you didn't know, stories of Aswang are all over the Philippines, especially out in rural areas. They're basically the Philippines' equivalent to vampires of western folklore in terms of mythology.

They're said to be shapeshifters who have a taste for human and animal entrails, but their most sought-after delicacy is the flesh of an unborn child. The legends have it that the Aswang would crawl around on rooftops at night, searching for pregnant women. When it found one, it would settle above the expectant mother as she slept, winding its freakishly long prehensile tongue into her room by some opening in the roof and suck the baby out from her very womb. As it happened, my mother was pregnant with my little sister. One of the elders claimed he knew the Aswang had paid a visit to our house. I don't know how he knew this information, but he insisted that this particular Aswang wasn't

trying to eat my sister. Rather, he said it's simply like being around pregnant women because it finds their aroma to be somehow intoxicating. My dad said although it was still creepy, he was a bit relieved that he wasn't dealing with a creature that wanted to harm his family. My sister was born without any problems and we never heard from that creature again as far as I know. When I was around five or six years old my family lived in a small two-story home near the outskirts of Omaha, Nebraska. Imagine if you were standing out in front facing the house, you would see that a lonely street light was off to the left and my room was on the right side, kind of sitting in the house's shadow. Before I explain what I saw, I have to give you a quick side note. The kids at

my school used to say that my eyes turned red when I got angry, so they gave me a very hurtful nickname. One day when I got home from school, I saw it written with markers on my bedroom window. Big jagged letters scrawled out the word demon across the glass. I couldn't believe someone went to so much trouble just to do that to me. They used a ladder we kept around back of the house. It hadn't been moved in ages and was covered with weeds and dirt so it left clear signs against the wall below my window. I got so mad that I hit the window with a rock and it shattered. My father had to cover it with a garbage bag and some duct tape. It was a summer night, close to midnight when I got up to go to the bathroom.

Despite it being so late, I was awake and full of energy, so I decided to sneak and play video games in my room. About an hour later, around 1am, out of nowhere, I hear a faint scream coming from outside. I could tell it was a woman. Scared but still curious, I ran downstairs to look out the window in the living room, but I was shocked when I realized that the whole room was bathed in red light. As I surveyed the surreal environment, it felt like an alien world despite the fact that it was full of the furniture and items I saw and enjoyed every day. I looked up to see the windows were all covered, essentially plastered with some

kind of paper-like material that seemed to be soaked in blood-red liquid. I ran back up to my room and carefully climbed up on the sill, peering through the unbroken part of the window so as not to be noticed. What I saw, just at the edge of the circle of light on the street, was the shape of a man crouching over a woman who lay motionless on the ground. The man wore an orange short-sleeved shirt and what looked like jeans, but the girl was dressed in a sort of business casual attire, a collared white shirt with a black skirt and stockings.

I saw a streak of blue in her otherwise brown hair. The man looked up and his face was so pale that it stood in contrast against the darkness around him. A dark red speared and stained his mouth and face and that's when I realized I was looking at a vampire. As the shock and fear began to build in my mind he turned his head directly toward me with a startled look. He glared at me before sweeping the girl up from the ground and dashing away with such incredible speed it didn't seem natural at all, even to my childlike mind. I went back downstairs after he left and saw that the windows were back to normal. The next day I went over to the spot where the attack had

occurred and saw spots of blood on the pavement along with a silver necklace. I took the necklace and cleaned it up and I still have it to this day. The crazy thing is, following the incident I began to have nightmares of my hands being drenched in blood. Those soon evolved into dreams where everything in my house would be spattered with it. My bed, the floor, the ceiling and the walls. It was like I was living in a slaughterhouse. A few days later I woke up and had a bite mark on my arm. The mark was deep enough that it drew blood so I showered and covered it up, doing my best to keep it hidden because I knew no one would believe me and

I already had a reputation for being a demon at school. On top of that I knew my mother would have thought I was cutting myself and I just didn't want the trouble. I guess I was pretty stupid back then. I don't know what I saw and I know I was very young but I truly believe the man was a vampire. Hey friends, thanks for listening. Be sure to subscribe and click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations. If you got a story, be sure to submit them to my subreddit, rLetsReadOfficial, and give and receive feedback from the community,

and maybe even hear your story featured on the next video. And join my Discord to interact with me and other listeners directly. And if you want to support me even more, grab early access to all future narrations for just $1 a month on Patreon, and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. Links in the bio. Thanks so much, friends. And remember, don't forget to wipe and stay off the pipe.